


Jackson 2.0

by pipisafoat



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, orgasm denial/control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nobody can replace Daniel. All you'll ever be is a cheap copy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jackson 2.0

**Author's Note:**

> Meanders directly through canon, Meridian through Abyss. Assumes a working knowledge of those episodes.

He keeps going with Daniel's notes, though he starts a new notebook. He read all the old ones first, to see if there was any sort of method he needed to follow, but for all the meticulous organization in the archaeology records, the man's personal notes are beyond unstructured. Still, there are some things that he notices hold true across all entries, and he writes them on a note card. Item's identification code, planet(s) of origin, transcription of any writing on it and translations of it, and presumed function of the item. He's pretty sure the music that was playing as Daniel studied everything isn't necessary, but he tries to remember to make a note of it just in case.

There are nine notebooks of Daniel's work, one only halfway filled up. Five are blue, three red, and one black. When he arranges them by time, he can't find the pattern of the colors. He tries different arrangements, but no pattern makes itself apparent, and there aren't any empty notebooks just sitting around. He asks Major Carter to assist him, and she brings him a black marbled book that isn't even in the same style as the others. He lays it out with the others and shrugs. Maybe it is just random, or maybe there's some pattern only Daniel knew. Either way, there's nothing he can do but use what he's been brought and hope it doesn't mess anyone else up. Maybe Daniel isn't dead, maybe he comes back. Or maybe someone else wanders in who understands his old system. His best chance of survival on this base seems to be to stay out of the way and somehow fill Daniel's shoes at the same time.

* * *

  
He cuts himself trying to open a box, late enough that most everyone who can has gone home. He waves the nurse in the infirmary back into her chair, calling softly to her, "I'll just grab a small bandage." He slips quietly past the single occupied bed - and from what mission reports he's read, that's nothing short of a record - and opens a drawer on the small cart. It's past time to just take a box of these Band-Aids back to Daniel's - to his own office.

"Daniel two-point-oh," the man on the bed says, turning his head towards Jonas. It's O'Neill. "What time is it?"

"I don't know," Jonas says. Truthfully, he hasn't learned how to tell time on this planet yet, and he hasn't figured out how time is even measured. He knows there's a minute, and it's shorter than an hour, but that's all he's got. An Earth day is shorter than a Langaran day, and he still hasn't adjusted to _that_.

O'Neill pushes himself up onto an elbow, grunting in pain as he does it.

"Should I get the nurse?" Jonas asks, and the man shakes his head in a Tau'ri gesture for 'no'. "I'll just ... I can leave and let you get back to sleep. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I was awake already," he says. "Stay for a while."

Jonas hesitates, then drags a chair a couple feet closer. He sticks one end of the band-aid down and stretches it across the back of his hand, pushing the sides of the cut together. "What happened to you?"

O'Neill laughs. "Got chased down by some sort of boar on P3X-872. Avoided getting gored by rolling down a hill. I'm only bruised, but you know the doc." He glances at Jonas's hand. "Need help?"

"Please."

O'Neill motions for the band-aid box. "You got to hold that together before you put that one on." He pulls out a smaller strip and deftly applies it while Jonas holds the cut together, then puts on the larger band-aid. He strokes over the ends a couple times as though checking their hold before releasing Jonas's hand.

"Thank you." Jonas pats a leg through the sheets. "Must be lonely in here."

"You have no idea."

He thinks through all the things in Daniel's office. "Do you want me to go get a chess set or something? I've been learning how to play, but I'm not very good yet."

"Hey." O'Neill stacks their hands on the blanket. "I'm lonely, not starving for an intellectual challenge."

He frowns. "Colonel, I don't know what you're asking of me. I'd be glad to keep you company however you like; I just don't know what you like."

O'Neill bares his teeth in a mockery of a smile. "Pull the curtains." When Jonas turns back around, his sheet and pants are pulled out of the way, and O'Neill's arm is over his eyes. "I'll tell you when I don't like something you do."

* * *

  
"I miss Daniel," Major Carter says when he walks in the door. She's trailing her hands over a tabletop, staring vaguely at a statue he hasn't yet read about.

"You were friends," he says, setting his notebook on the other table.

"We were friends," she agrees.

He sighs and comes over to stand next to her. "Major Carter, I'm sorry for what happened to him. I'm sorry for him, and for you, and for Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Frasier and every other person who misses him. All I can do is try to help with whatever I can. I know I can never fill his shoes exactly, but I'm trying."

She nods. "Nobody can replace Daniel. All you'll ever be is a cheap copy."

He turns away and picks up one of Daniel's older notebooks.

"Jonas, I didn't mean--" She sighs. "Don't try to be a copy of Daniel. Be yourself. It's great that you're picking up his work, but don't try to replace him."

"He was a good man." Jonas sits down and bends his head over the notebook.

* * *

  
He sees O'Neill several times in the next few days. Runs into him in the hall, shares a table in the mess, even stands next to him at the urinals. The Colonel never says anything to him, not even when he tries to initiate conversation.

He's finally pulled aside late one night, dragged into empty guest quarters. O'Neill shoves him up against the door as soon as it closes and slams a hand over his mouth.

"You don't say anything," he warns. "Not now, not ever. Got it?"

Jonas tries to nod, but his head is pinned too firmly. He briefly considers moving his shoulder in the Kelownan gesture of agreement, but its meaning for the Tau'ri is too different. O'Neill seems to be satisfied, though; he releases Jonas's mouth and crushes his own to it.

He twists his face away and opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again when O'Neill matter-of-factly unfastens Jonas's belt. The hand shoving down his pants is abrupt and borderline rude, and he doesn't miss the way O'Neill's eyes shut as he presses their foreheads together.

"Yeah," he whispers gruffly as his fingers wrap around Jonas's erection. "Good." It's a little dry and a lot rougher than he really likes, and it's barely lasted three minutes when O'Neill whispers, "Come. Now." He jerks and gasps as his body follows the order, wincing at the feel of it.

O'Neill drags his hand out of Jonas's pants, wipes it on Jonas's jacket. He spins him by the hips and shoves him against the door face-first. He shoves a fist against the back of Jonas's neck and holds him in place with it as he grinds against him. It's silent in the room, except for hard breathing and stifled gasps, for a long moment before O'Neill shudders behind him. He lets out a nearly soundless noise before pulling away and shoving Jonas aside.

As he watches O'Neill walk out of the room, Jonas replays the noise in his head, trying to figure out if he'd actually heard the _Daniel_.

* * *

  
 _Jonas--_

 _These boxes are all of the things from Daniel's house that looked like they were work-related. Please take a look at everything and box up whatever won't be useful._

 _Sam_

He finds some of the items in the boxes listed in Daniel's most recent notebook. They get put on a shelf so he can finish the translations Daniel hadn't gotten; that was probably why they'd been at his house in the first place. He gets the rest of the staff to sort through what he doesn't recognize and pull out everything that is definitely of Earth origin. What's left is just under half of the original stack, and he settles in for several weeks of what-the-hell-is-this.

Among the statues and jewelry and stone tablets, he finds another notebook, this one in the same style as the one Major-- Sam got him. Composition, he learned, though the name seems redundant to him. It looks like it's written in Ancient, but very few groupings are actual words, and the ones that are don't make for any kind of sense. He takes to carrying it around with him and looking at alternate ways to translate it over meals or anytime he's not busy.

He finds one line at the beginning of the notebook that's written in a different language, different alphabet and everything. Sam recognizes it as an Earth language, and he finally finds someone who can translate it.

 _In the event of my death: Sam, Wisconsin, folder D has a cypher._

She gets quiet when he shows her and takes the notebook away, hugging it to her chest with her eyes starting to water.

* * *

  
O'Neill shoves him to his knees in the dubious cover of the men's room after pulling him away from the visiting dignitaries he'd been translating for. "Colonel, this really isn't the time. I need to get back into negotia--"

"Shut up." O'Neill jerks his pants open and pulls his dick out. "Stop speaking languages that aren't yours and suck me." His fingers clench in Jonas's hair and pull him forward, but they flutter in a probably-accidental gentle caress just after Jonas takes him into his mouth.

O'Neill's got a fist shoved in his mouth when he comes, but Jonas looks up to see his eyes closed and face almost tender, and the fingers are definitely stroking his hair as he sucks gently on the softening flesh.

* * *

  
He gets a second notebook from Sam and uses it for what he imagines Daniel used the still-untranslated one - he keeps track of his daily life, and his thoughts, and his enormous confusions. It's not a conscious decision to write in his native language, despite spending all day writing professional notes in English, but the first time O'Neill picks it up makes him glad he's on an alien planet. Everyone else can flip through aimlessly, but all they understand are his sketches, and sometimes not even those.

He writes at length about his future teammates, or maybe that's just wishful thinking. He writes about the big damn heroes that make up SG-1. Sometimes he thinks back and writes about what it was like before he understood their place on Earth, before he resigned himself to living on Earth. He wonders about Sam and her relationship with Daniel. Harriman had shown him, when he first got to the SGC, video footage of everyone saying goodbye to the archeologist. It had seemed clear from their first meeting that the whole team was very fond of each other, and he was sure Daniel had known that. They hadn't seemed romantically inclined, but Sam isn't acting that way with Jonas, either. Not the way O'Neill....

Whatever it is that O'Neill's doing to or with him. He writes at length about that as well, though also in a sort of code just in case someone picks up Kelownan. He's finally learned, after several encounters, that at least one reason for O'Neill wanting him not to say anything is that it's somehow illegal for him. Not for Jonas, not for every man in their country, but for all the military men. But he doesn't think that's the only reason he's not to say anything.

He can't ask anyone about O'Neill and Jackson; that's part of the bizarre law. But he finds the chance to ask Sam, in between them becoming friends, if O'Neill has been seeing anyone. She doesn't look like she's covering for her teammates, but she doesn't sound like she's sure about anything either. "Colonel O'Neill is a pretty private man," is all she can really sound confident about saying. Jonas turns more and more of his attention to the pages he copied from Daniel's private notebook, certain the answer is in there somewhere. He's going to have to get the whole thing back from Sam at some point.

In the meantime, he's jerking off more than he ever did in his years without a partner in Kelowna. O'Neill gets regular orgasms from him, but he hasn't been allowed to come more than once in every five encounters.

* * *

  
By the time he finally gets a working grasp on Earth's time measurements, he's been there for three months - approximately ninety days, one quarter of a year, twelve weeks, six fortnights. He drives Sam crazy showing off his new skill. "For all that you claim to be a quick learner," she complains, "it sure took you long enough to figure out a clock." In his defense, he hadn't really made an effort to learn after the first couple of days. He thinks she's jealous that he can do Babylonian fractions in his head.

But before he can spend too much time showing off, he has to take some time to get upset. He's been here for _a quarter of an Earth year_ , which isn't too different from a quarter of a Langaran year, and that is entirely too long to have been inside a mountain. He tries to complain that he doesn't have enough vitamin D in his diet, but Doctor Frasier tells him about multivitamins and D-enhanced milk, and he turns down the stack of medical journals she offers him. The one that he read to get that complaint in the first place gave him nightmares for a week.

Before he can come up with another semi-plausible reason to get to the surface of the planet that he has to call home now, Sam takes him not only to the surface, but on a trip across part of their country, to a place called Nevada. He's fascinated by how similar their worlds look and at the look on O'Neill's face when they're suddenly alone together.

"Never done it in Area 51," O'Neill says, and Jonas is about to say _Me, neither,_ in a tone utterly devoid of 'duh', when an airman opens the door and says, "Sirs, this way, please."

"Spoilsport," O'Neill mutters, and Jonas blushes as he asks Sam later what it means.

* * *

  
As a reward for saving a planet that isn't even his, he gets to join SG-1 finally. Except their next mission is a standard check-in with a race that isn't too fond of newcomers, so he has to sit it out. They come back with purple face paint and a little too much alcohol, and Sam slings an arm around his shoulder when he moves in to relieve them all of their weapons.

"Jonas!" she exclaims, just slightly too loud to be anything short of completely wasted. O'Neill looks like he's pouting for a moment as Sam steers the two of them away, but he shakes it off to give Doctor Frasier an energetic hug.

"Have fun?" he asks.

"Oh my god," she replies, then giggles. Honest to God giggles, and Jonas stops dead in the hallway to stare at her. "Yes, Joney, yes, we had fun. We always have fun." She pulls him down the hall to their right, and he finally realizes that she's leading them to her lab. That worked out, he gets a firmer grasp around her waist and gets them there with a minimum of weaving, tuning out her description of the harvest festival they'd been a part of.

"And then they thanked us for doing such a good job protecting their harvesters, and that's when the drink started flowing." She frowns at the floor as Jonas sets her in a chair. "Then it's a little fuzzy. But fun!" She grins up at him, and he can't help but return the smile.

"Good."

She pulls open a drawer on the desk she's at, then glares at him. "I'm over there," she says, pointing unsteadily. He sighs and pushes her chair across the room, kicking the open drawer shut as they go. "That's better." This time, she pulls a notebook out of the drawer, and he recognizes it instantly as the one of Daniel's she took from him when he translated the line about the cypher.

"Sam...."

"I looked at it," she confesses, rubbing a hand gently over the cover. "It took me a long time to figure out the cypher, and even longer to translate the little bit that I did. I'm not a linguist, you know, and there was a lot I had to do other than this." Her eyes meet his, pleading understanding, and he sets a hand on her shoulder. "But it's not for me. I shouldn't ... you'll understand, when you do it." She hands him the notebook.

"What about the cypher?"

She shrugs. "You would have figured it out eventually anyway." But she hands him a printout. He tucks it into the notebook without looking. Plenty of time for that later. "Promise me you won't misuse this."

He frowns. "Misuse it how?"

"You could ... if the first page is any indication. You could really." She sighs and rubs a hand over her face. "I'm too drunk to have this conversation, but I can't say it sober." She laughs hollowly.

"I would never intentionally hurt you, or the team, or Daniel's reputation," he says earnestly, hoping that covers her concerns. "Or the SGC."

She nods. "General Hammond? Doctor Frasier?"

"I respect them both a great deal. The same applies, I wouldn't intentionally hurt them. Or their reputations."

Sam smiles brilliantly. "Good. Good." She pats his arm, where he has the notebook and cypher tucked against his body, and nods enthusiastically. "Good."

"Okay. Bedtime for all the drunk Majors in the room." He isn't sure if her exaggerated looking around for any other drunk Majors is a joke or not, but her laughter is very contagious.

* * *

  
The first page is clearly not the first that was written. It's a sort of modified table of contents, a 'what to expect', and a warning that none of his team members should read it unless the entire team were disbanded and all going their separate ways, and maybe not even then. It looks like Daniel wrote about his childhood, his impressions of all his team members and the others he had to work closely with, personal stories from missions that didn't make it into the reports, and another section simply labeled 'reverse vector'. Jonas flips to that first and blinks in consternation at the Goa'uld symbols that don't come together into words, either.

The cypher is a simple one for any linguist, though not one anyone would likely think of on their own. Daniel had translated everything into Goa'uld, then transliterated it into the Ancient alphabet. Jonas has to write the untransliterated Goa'uld before he can read anything in the notebook, and he wonders if Daniel had to write down the same before recording it in the notebook. He's careful to burn his own midground notes as soon as he's read them, and it's possible that Daniel did the same, but it seems just as likely that the man held it all in his head as he wrote. All accounts say that he wasn't as quick a study as Jonas is, but he was brilliant in his own right.

He doesn't feel right reading about Daniel's childhood or some of the clearly private moments from missions, but he starts every mission just in case there's something in there that might be important. The more personal bits he skims or skips entirely, but in case SG-1 encounters some of these people again, he tries to read all the salient details. The sections of the notebook he's most interested in - though he uses sections lightly; Daniel's organization was once again beyond abysmal and approaching purposefully-horrible - are those about his teammates and the relationships he had with them. He starts with Sam, because he knows exactly how easy it'll be to cheer her up. He writes down some of the parts about her fully translated and gives it to her:

 _One set of foster parents had two other kids in the house - one biological and one adopted years prior. The three of us were all about the same age, and we got on relatively well, but - through no fault of anyone - I was always the outsider. Ethan and Alexa were real siblings, even if their blood would disagree, and I was just temporary. I was okay with that, even then, but I always wondered what it would have been like to have a sister. I was jealous of their relationship, but I wanted one of my own instead of wanting to break them apart. My foster mother was particularly pleased with my maturity, but that's beside the point._

 _I finally know what it's like. I have a sister, though I'm not sure if she knows it or not. We're friends, but it's so much more than that. Anything I'm thinking, anything I'm doing or want to do or would die rather than do - I can just show up and say whatever's on my mind, and she'll set her work aside to talk to me unless it's an imminent-doom situation. (Not that I've asked her to in such a situation. But she has good priorities. I'm sure she'd keep working.)_

 _And Jacob feels it, too. He said, the last time he was here, that he thinks of me and Jack as his kids as much as Sam. Slight weirdness aside, since I'm fairly sure he wants Sam and Jack to end up together after the Air Force, it was one of the most touching things anyone's said to me in a while. Our siblingship was basically certified, I guess._

He doesn't feel entitled to hold her, but she's crying.

* * *

  
Jonas realizes his mistake too late for his liking, when O'Neill gives him a once-over before his first actual mission with the team and clearly finds him lacking. He knows he's going to have to prove himself to the whole team, but O'Neill's going to be the hardest one to win over. Even if he weren't essentially replacing O'Neill's best friend and ... and what, exactly? Fuck buddy, stress relief, lover, partner? Even without that automatic black mark, he's got a whole stack of seemingly-arbitrary qualifications to meet in an unspecified amount of time to avoid getting taken right back off SG-1. He should have started with O'Neill in the notebook and come back to making Sam feel better once he was safe.

But he feels better to have pieces of Daniel's notebook along with him. He won't dare to take the original off-world, just in case something happens to him or his pack, but he's brought copies of pages he thinks are labeled _Jack_. While he'd much rather be exploring the mothership, at least he has something to do other than get into staring contests with Teal'c while they wait. He doesn't dare to write down the midground Goa'uld, but he's had enough practice by now that he can translate straight over with a little extra concentration.

 _At this point, my notebook has become something of a How To guide for whoever takes my spot on the team once I die. It's a little weird, really, to think about that eventuality and plan for it like this, but whoever - come on, Daniel, either your replacement's reading this or you're going to look nuts anyway. You'll have a hard enough time fitting into the team with pointers, so I don't see any harm in helping._

 _The basics are pretty simple. Sam'll like you if you're a good person, especially if you make an effort to be her friend and/or listen to her when she gets on science tangents. And you should listen anyway, because you never know when you'll have to reroute power or fix a DHD without her around. Teal'c will appreciate you if you're a good fighter, and he does have lower standards for most humans than for a Jaffa. And there, I'm assuming that I'll be replaced by a human._

 _No matter what, Jack's going to be the hardest nut to crack. Save his life if you can, the whole team if the opportunity presents itself. Learn how to shoot, how to set up a tent, basic first aid. Do what he tells you to, and I guess that's all you can really do._

Jonas sighs loudly, and Teal'c looks over at him again. He's saved an explanation by O'Neill radioing in, and he stuffs the papers back in his bag and leans back as he listens to the people doing what he should be doing, too.

* * *

  
O'Neill wraps his hand in Jonas's shirt as soon as the debriefing is done and drags him down the hall and into an office. "You don't pull that sort of stunt again," he hisses.

"I was just--"

"Don't _say_ anything!" O'Neill lets go of him and steps back, running a hand through his hair. "Christ, you're all alike, always opening your mouth when you really shouldn't. Leave the science to the scientists and the shooting and dying to those of us who are actually trained for it."

"And what exactly does that leave me to do?"

O'Neill shoves right back into his space, grabs his hands and slams them against the wall behind him. " _Shut up_ and do what I tell you to do. Don't play hero."

" _And do what?_ " His shirt is jerked over his head before he can even finish saying that, and he's not surprised when O'Neill shoves it in his mouth roughly.

"Translate. Negotiate. Have ideas and let Carter carry them out. How many times do I have to _tell you_ \--" He breaks off abruptly and glares at Jonas. "Fuck you, Jonas Quinn."

He gives the man a look that clearly says _that's what I'm waiting for_.

O'Neill growls low in his throat and drags his fingernails down Jonas's chest. He's never been much for pain, but it's clear when O'Neill bites down on his left nipple that he's expected to react positively to the punishment. Despite his reflex writhing away from the teeth, his dick follows orders as well as it always has where O'Neill's involved.

The mouth switches nipples, and he jerks back against the wall. O'Neill's hand slides over the front of his pants, and the man laughs against Jonas's chest. "Don't come," he warns before biting down again, hand rubbing hard against Jonas's erection before finally opening his pants. He gets one glorious stroke, smooth and not painful, before O'Neill pulls away from him.

He spits the shirt out of his mouth. "What--"

"Don't." O'Neill stuffs the shirt back in Jonas's mouth and pulls the ends around to the back of his head. He holds them with one hand and spins him around, pressing them together back to front. Jonas pushes back against O'Neill's erection and suddenly finds himself being shoved forward onto the office's bare desk. "Take your pants off," O'Neill hisses.

His fingers fumble on the zip, but he gets them shoved down his thighs. O'Neill puts a twist in the shirt at the back of his head, and his neck arches as the fabric pulls on the corners of his mouth. He groans into the makeshift gag when he feels one of O'Neill's fingers, covered in cool lube, shove its way into his body. His hips thrust back against it.

O'Neill pulls the finger out and slaps him on the ass. "Stay still and take it." He shoves two in this time, and Jonas shakes as he tries not to push back this time. He can't stay still when O'Neill's cock starts to drive into him, but he's not punished for it.

It's hard and fast, and when O'Neill leans down and tells him to come, he does. He's slumped limply over the desk as O'Neill finishes himself and leans on top of him for a minute. The shirt loosens, and Jonas pulls it out of his mouth and drops it off the side of the desk. O'Neill rests his forehead on the back of Jonas's neck, a small bit of tension in him, and after a moment of silence, he sighs and pulls out.

Jonas groans quietly as O'Neill wipes something over his hole, turns him over, and cleans his dick off, too. He struggles to open his eyes just in time to see O'Neill looking at him with a strange mixture of pity and hatred across his face.

"Talk to Frasier if you're hurt," O'Neill says quietly, and he shuts the door behind him with a soft click.

* * *

  
 _Jack likes to destress after missions where anyone but him nearly died, but you don't need to know anything about that. Just stay out of his way until he's done and calmed down._

Jonas laughs so hard he spits jello across the room.

* * *

  
O'Neill avoids him again for a few days. He thought they'd gotten past all of this, but apparently not. He acts normally, though. Tries to get O'Neill to see that just because they haven't fucked before, he isn't going to freak out about it; there's nothing to freak out about. But O'Neill keeps right on freaking, though at least it's the quiet kind of freaking.

But then the form appears on his desk one day while he's eating lunch. He reads it a couple times, tries to imagine actually filling in those blanks, and nearly loses his lunch at the thought. He marches straight up to O'Neill's office and bangs on the door.

"Come in," the colonel calls from inside, and Jonas shuts the door behind him.

"Colonel O'Neill, the shredder in my office is broken. I was hoping you could get rid of this unnecessary paper for me." He hands the form over, and O'Neill's eyebrows climb. "Please," he adds as an afterthought, trying to remember to be polite while making his point.

O'Neill hesitates. "If you're sure it's unnecessary."

"Absolutely." He watches O'Neill calmly as the man looks at the form again. It has to be him who put it on the desk in the first place. Nobody else knows what happened. But it wasn't sexual harassment, and he refuses to report someone for something he wanted in the first place. O'Neill looks up at him, and he meets the gaze steadily.

"Are you--"

"I'm sure."

There's another long pause, then O'Neill nods and feeds the paper into the shredder beside his desk. Jonas smiles at him, turns on his heel, and leaves the office without another word said.

* * *

  
O'Neill corners him that afternoon for a quick handjob - reciprocal, this time; Jonas hopes it isn't an apology - and tells him afterwards about their upcoming trip to Antarctica. "You'd better jerk off before we go," he says over his shoulder, pausing at the door. "You don't get to come while we're down there."

He thinks it's friendly advice until the first night, when he lays in the dark and listens to O'Neill getting himself off. Until O'Neill shoves him up against the door before breakfast and jerks him until he's on the edge, then backs away smirking.

"Not until we get back and I tell you that you can again," O'Neill says after the fourth delayed orgasm. Jonas writhes on the mattress and nearly loses it just at the words. He would never have been aroused by this in his old life. He wonders if his dick has caught up to the adventuresome nature of the rest of his life, or if he really is filling Daniel's shoes a little too closely to be strictly comfortable.

* * *

  
But O'Neill doesn't come back from Antarctica, not in any way that matters, and the longer he's gone, the more antsy Jonas gets. He thinks he asks after O'Neill more times than he can pass off as teammate concern. It's a relief when SG-1 finally gets an assignment, even just the three of them, so he has something more effective to focus on than old translations.

It takes one of the archaeologists, someone he barely knows, to suggest that he get laid so he can think again. O'Neill's still running around with the Tok'ra on some secret mission, and they _are_ back from Atlantis. Surely he's not still expected to refrain.

So he makes himself comfortable, thinks for a second about O'Neill pushing him against the wall and telling him not to come, and he's hard in less time than even he can calculate. He wraps a hand around his erection and strokes lightly, the way he likes, then groans and tightens his hand to closer to O'Neill's grip. It's too hard and too rough and too dry and _perfect_. He arches, moans, writhes, twists, and gasps, but it's not enough, he can't get there. He tries to imagine O'Neill leaning over him, saying, "Come, Jonas, come."

But he can't quite picture it, and he finally gives up, panting and even worse off than before.

* * *

  
"Oh, hey, Jonas." Sam smiles at him from where she's bent over Dr Fredrickson's desk. "Give us a minute?"

"Sure." He's in no hurry for lunch, and he always enjoys a chance to observe their physics. It's still a little over his head, but he's been known to catch the 'dummy errors' for them more than once. He wanders over to look at the equations they're studying.

"The simulations were all consistent, nothing even remotely close to what we expected." Dr Fredrickson sighs in frustration. "Maybe we should all go to lunch and come back with fresh eyes."

Jonas hums agreement, then sets a hand on the man's shoulder. "There," he says, pointing to the middle of the screen. "The sign should have changed, right?"

"Oh, God."

Sam grins. "Jonas, you're perfect. All we have to do is reverse this vector, and--"

"Reverse the vector." He straightens and squeezes Dr Fredrickson's shoulder. "Sam, you're brilliant." He grabs her face and kisses her on the forehead. "I've got to do something. Eat without me."

"Jonas!" she calls as he dashes out of the room, but he doesn't stop to listen. He has a notebook to translate.

She brings him lunch an hour later; he's still bent over Daniel's notebook, scribbling furiously in Ancient. "What you got there?"

He lunges to cover everything with his body, then blushes sheepishly as he blinks up at her. "Ah, sorry. Nothing." He takes the tray from her and sets it beside him.

"You never showed up," she offers.

"Personal project," he replies, flipping the notebook shut momentarily to show her the cover. She nods. "I, uh, I don't think this is anything I can...."

Sam nods. "It's okay. I trust you."

He works the entire afternoon, and by the end of it he has a whole stack of papers detailing the progression of Jack and Daniel's relationship. It was so _easy_ if he'd only just _thought_ about it. If everything else was translated into Goa'uld and transliterated into Ancient, 'reverse vector' was clearly translated into Ancient and transliterated into Goa'uld. He groans again at his stupidity before settling in to read.

* * *

  
Jack's mission report reads a little bit like someone took half of it out before passing it on to Jonas. He frowns as he takes in the last paragraph. Daniel had been there. Daniel may or may not have been the one to actually get Jack out, judging by the state the colonel'd been in when they found him. But most importantly, Daniel had sat there with Jack as his mind slowly fried from too much sarcophagus all at once.

Jonas knows he'll never be that person. Until now, he hasn't even thought about what was happening in those terms. There were lots of orgasms (well, a few, in Jonas's case), and orgasms are always good, but that was all they ever had. Not like Jack and Daniel, and Daniel will be back sooner or later. Jonas sighs as he considers it - Daniel died, or ascended, because his life wasn't worth anything more than a tally mark in the grand scheme of things, in his mind. But if Jack remembers right, then Daniel broke the rules for him. If it happened once, it'll happen again, and he'll find a way to come back any time Jack needs him.

He's only a temporary solution, and he knows it. In some ways, he's an upgrade from Daniel, but given a choice, SG-1 will go back to original. So Jonas keeps careful notes for Daniel to go over when he comes back, and he swears Sam to secrecy on the translations when he gives her Daniel's notebook back.


End file.
